


Pursuits

by kromeriffic



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Dubious Consent, Dubious Science, F/M, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Nero's massive boner for science causes problems again, Porn With Plot, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 22:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18352787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kromeriffic/pseuds/kromeriffic
Summary: [I have no excuses, only apologies. Please check the tags and read responsibly.]Cid had long believed that – her knack for attracting or causing trouble aside – the Warrior of Light’s side was by far the safest place to be. So when Nero starts acting even more strangely than usual, they’ll still be able to handle him, right?





	Pursuits

_[Observation: Other subjects of comparable biological composition showed vastly inferior test results to those of Alpha group.]_

Cid would have been shocked if he hadn't caught Nero looking through his blueprints at some point; the wretched man was so set on pushing himself into Cid's work that he all but burned with the urge to outshine him. It would have been entertaining, maybe even flattering if Cid were a greater-souled man, but the reality was just _fucking annoying_. So he had a strategy: leave a few non-critical designs out on purpose.

This seemed to work for the most part, though they still stalked around each other like squabbling cats. Nero fumed silently but couldn't manage a more thorough search through Cid's papers, and Cid used the loss of the basic blueprints as a pretext for designing stronger locks than ever – electronic as well as physical – for his files. Even if Nero was aware of the game he was content to play along, which was about the best Cid could hope for, given his history.

As it began, so it went on. Cid began the arduous process of transferring his equipment from Mor Dhona to the Fringes as their investigation into Omega continued. Nero continued to find excuses to be wherever Cid was; Cid made a few feeble attempts to shake him off but with no success. The more drastic methods would have to wait for a greater need.

Nero’s hands developed tremors but he still busied himself with testing his own projects to destruction, picking them apart, feverishly reworking them again and again...whatever they were. Cid was content to let Nero think that he was too focused on his own work to pay close attention. He was sure that he’d be able to spot anything truly dangerous before it could bear fruit – he’d managed that just fine up till now, after all.

With hindsight, it was a terrible mistake to leave Nero on quite such a long leash.

_[Observation: Placing Alpha subjects under sufficient stress (physical, psychological, emotional, or a combination of the above) results in battle capability far beyond that suggested by their physiology. Ref: #306489 “Hero” phenomenon]_

It happened so gradually that Cid couldn’t quite remember when it began. There were times when he could teleport somewhere without tripping over Nero five minutes later. Entire weeks went by without any new excursions into his design drawers. Nero’s hands still shook, but the fire in his eyes seemed better-controlled.

Cid knew he should still be keeping a close watch on Nero no matter how well-behaved he became, but the relative peace was a relief, especially when a change in Omega's status meant the Warrior of Light would be visiting soon. Her work kept her away for long stretches, and Cid liked to plan ways he could welcome his lover when she arrived. He knew who _he_ preferred to think about; Nero could wait.

Another benefit to the quiet, Cid found, was that he could devote some time to reliving the last time the Warrior had visited. Most of the Ironworks engineers had already packed up for their next assignments – and even if their work wasn’t calling them away, most of Cid’s colleagues were adept at finding excuses to be elsewhere when word got round that the Warrior was on her way. Working together as long as they had, in cobbled-together campsites more often than not, privacy had become a polite fiction they deliberately kept for each other.

The sun had barely dipped behind the jagged mountains when Cid ducked into his own tent, the air still heavy and stifling from the day’s baking. Normally Cid would rather break his hand on purpose than retire this early, but true privacy in their camp was a luxury he had no intention of wasting. He was unbuckling his belt, reaching into his pants and his cock already stirring, firming-plump at his fingertips, before the tent flap had finished swinging shut.

_He’d spent a month refining this particular design, and it had been packed away for twice that long by the time she could visit him again. He’d kept the specifics a surprise, only told her that he had a gift for her_

_She’d burst out laughing when he first presented it to her, little rounded arms arranged in a way that couldn’t possibly remind anyone of sex. She kept chuckling – until he switched it on and held it against the tender skin inside her wrist. He was secretly quite proud of that tiny motor._

_Her mouth had opened slightly, still with a smile playing around it. Time stretched while he held her immobile by one wrist, and then-_

_“I need that inside me right. Now.”_

_Afterwards, Cid knew he would treasure the look on her face when she came – powerfully, like everything she did, but more intense than usual, her whole body trembling afterwards - for a very long time._

Cid had found out the hard way that he’d be useless for any delicate work on the day the Warrior was due to arrive, and so he’d planned ahead: saving some bulky, well-wrapped equipment for the last batch to haul from Mor Dhona. Today was for things that could be replaced if needed.

It was still better than doing nothing; he _hated_ waiting without having anything to occupy himself. When his linkpearl chimed earlier than he’d expected, he was already grinning ear-to-ear when he reached to activate it. He was so ready to hear the Warrior, so on edge without her that it was even worse hearing Nero’s voice instead.

_[Observation: Omega systems still remain far below their full operating capacity. Of necessity, external elements must be manipulated to achieve mission goal.]_

The curtains were drawn; the only light came from a few flickering screens. As far as Cid could tell, most of the available flat surfaces were covered in terminals but in the gloom the hulking shadows could be anything. Some systems lay half-dismantled, cases open and electronic guts tumbling over each other to tangle in their neighbours' wires. He picked his way across to the bed shoved into a corner, his hands itching to start untangling things.

"What possessed you to bring her here?"

"She's very weak. My lodgings were nearby. Can't have the locals seeing her like this, can we?"

It was a good point, but Cid wasn't going to say so out loud. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to touch the Warrior's shoulder. She whimpered and shifted a little beneath him, but made no move to emerge from her blankets. Her breathing was ragged; he could feel her shivering.

Forget tidying up. He had a powerful need to punch something, but Nero had stayed by the door, damn him.

What could have brought her low like this? The Warrior was far too experienced to be bested by any normal foe – he tried not to think about Zenos, about the Warrior's shock and despair, the new lines that etched themselves around her eyes in a matter of weeks. That left only a new type of weapon: mechanical, chemical, aetherial...or what?

Her forehead was searing hot beneath his hand, but the skin was dry; her hair wasn’t soaked with sweat as he'd expected. Nero had said, _taken ill_ , but this was like no fever he'd ever seen. She whimpered again, mumbled something he couldn't catch, but she didn't – or couldn't – open her eyes. Cid had seen her ill before; this wasn’t it.

"Fascinating."

Nero had crept up behind him and leaned over to inspect her. He was far too close; Cid's neck prickled. He had no right to study her like that, picking her apart with his eyes. Nero was the person the exploded diagram was made for, and Cid did _not_ want him looking at her. He shifted his shoulders, huffed out a breath, tried to ignore the rising, twanging tension that Nero had a gift for provoking.

"Overworked, perhaps? She never stops, does she? Your lot always seem to have another job for her."

"...Just stop talking."

He ignored Nero's ironic bow, began easing the blankets aside to find her pulse, fumbling for his chronometer with his other hand – but she was properly moving now, reacting to the brush of his fingertips at her neck. He found the pulse again, and started counting the beats.

"She's physically responsive but hardly coherent by any measure..."

Cid had been trying to give up the habit of thinking aloud for some time but the sound of his voice seemed to be helping the Warrior. Her movements were getting more insistent, slightly stronger, at least.

"It’s too dark to check her response to light. Hang on...there's blood."

And so there was, mostly dried onto her neck, in specks so small that he'd nearly missed them. Only the lingering stickiness on his fingers had shown it.

"...an insect sting?"

Cid didn't notice Nero tensing up and moving away, how his hands drifted to the nearest intact screen. He was watching his Warrior, who, as far as he could tell, had finally realised he was there.

If Cid had been watching, he would have seen Nero smile, seen the flash of something like static behind the eyes.

_[Commencing observations. Please begin at your own convenience.]_

"...Cid? What – ow _..._ it _hurts_."

"Where, can you show me..?"

He was cut off by the sound of the key clicking in the lock, carrying far too loud in the thick air. Nero's face was stiff: a mask that didn't quite cover a deep triumph, then he plunged his hands into a tangle of cables and even that look left his eyes. Contraptions all around the room briefly whirred into life, gibberish data displaying at dizzying speed, and went dim again.

It abruptly hit Cid that something was terribly, horribly wrong and the best person to get them out was sick, or hurt, or worse...in the back of his head a dull wail was beginning to drown out everything else. He couldn’t think.

"So, those are my instructions. I'd suspected but it's nice to be proved right, mm?"

"What did you _do?_ "

The Warrior was clutching at his arm, curling in on herself, clearly in pain, and if he thought it would do any good he'd have started beating Nero up ten minutes ago.

"Don't look at me, old friend. Omega knows every trick in the book, and a million outside it. Ah, but even with all it knows, it had to borrow some things from my mind as well. What a compliment."

Cid knew the size of Nero's ambitions even if the exact shape escaped him, but this? The excitement on Nero's face was indecent; he was practically panting now. It wouldn't be the first time Cid had been vaguely, horribly wondering if Nero was turned on by ancient machines that could destroy the world before breakfast.

"It doesn't quite know everything about this star, and some of my own unique, ah, _synthetics_ were co-opted very quickly. Maybe I can return the favour, if I'm quick enough."

"You let it in your mind?!"

"No. It let itself in. It was like an ocean – drowning; like a storm, taking over..." Even shadowed with remembered pain, awe was written on Nero's face. He shivered.

"It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Oh, how it hurt _._ Believe me. But just as there's a shard of Omega in me, I can see a fragment of it. I would give anything for just a fraction of the access I have right now. Even if it would permit me to break this link, I wouldn't dream of it."

"Cid. _Cid._ "

The Warrior was trying to sit up with little success.

"Cid, I can't...everything _hurts_..."

She looked so fragile. Even after her worst battles she had never admitted to any pain. He ached to hold her, and it didn't help that she was reaching out for him as well, limbs heavy and eyes full of pleading, mouth slightly open – and then he realised.

"You've drugged her."

“ _Yes._ " Nero was running his tongue over his lips. Cid counted himself lucky that it was so dim in there; he couldn't see anything else he was doing.

"Omega needs new data. I managed to convince it that there was already so much known about her battle prowess that it was time for a new tack. The drug is a stimulant, essentially."

A frozen fist was gripping a vice around Cid's heart. He looked at the Warrior, gazing at him and panting, writhing, barely able to keep still, nearly sobbing from pain and Twelve-knew what else, and shook his head.

"You sick bastard."

He hadn't thought to bring a weapon – _stupid, stupid –_ and the Warrior couldn't fight in this state either. What could he do without getting caught in Nero's game? How could he escape?

"The window frame is electrified, too. You’re here until I decide otherwise."

_Shit._ Nero by himself was bad enough, but informed by some of Omega's data and experiences – _non-participating entities will be summarily erased_ – he was far, far worse. Maybe he could force Omega to withdraw? If Nero were distracted enough at the same time, so as not to notice the removal of his greatest desire..?

It would be very difficult.

But not necessarily impossible. And Cid was used to making the near-impossible a reality. And he was disturbed to realise, he was getting excited by the challenge. What began as a numb terror in his chest kept flashing hot with every brush of the Warrior's fingers, catching him with the urgency in her eyes. It was as though he was feeling too much of, well...everything. And his body knew of one sure way to cope when understanding failed him: to twist what remained into something base, something that resonated on the deepest level.

_It seems I am a sick bastard, too._

But first, he needed to be sure – as much as he could be, knowing the Warrior wasn’t truly aware. He leaned over her, bracing himself on either side of her shoulders, and tried to ignore how much he liked the way she looked up at him, trapped beneath him as she was.

He moved closer still, enough to lose himself in the scent of her hair, and again felt the way time slowed and stretched for him when they were close, reeling away in overlapping confusion, the spaces between the seconds filled with flushed skin, trembling fingertips, an indrawn breath seemingly without end; a terribly lethal woman held placid and still. Just his. This moment’s pause felt achingly familiar.

"Do you need me to fuck you?"

She was shivering again, lost in the sensation of his breath against her ear. She seemed sensitive all over, actually; he could make such a mess of her with the slightest touch. He could feel his pulse racing at the idea, another kick of lust in his gut.

_Oh._

He said her name. She made a low noise in her throat that pulled an answering hum from his, but then she was able to pay him some kind of attention. He asked again _._

She wrapped shaking arms around his shoulders and lifted half her torso up to meet his. It was the strongest movement she’d made since he’d seen her, and she breathed into his ear, _please._

Still, he turned to glare at Nero, deciding to ignore the fact that Nero also had an obvious erection. He was hardly in a state to judge, himself.

“Did you make an antidote?”

Nero simply grinned back at him, and began a lazy tracing of his fingers along the waistband of his trousers.

“Oh, naturally I prepared. After all, she might have had an adverse reaction. It’s not like I could test the compound ahead of time, could I?” Nero popped the button on his trousers, rested his thumb on the zip without making any move to reach further, though he spread his fingers across the bulge of his crotch.

Cid held the Warrior closer, his mouth dry, feeling her cling to him and lean into his neck. An adverse reaction, gods. He prayed that hers was the predicted reaction. _The desired reaction,_ his treacherous brain supplied. He gripped great fistfuls of the blankets, as an alternative to smashing something.

“An _antidote,_ Nero. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Nero continued as though he hadn’t heard.

“It seems those precautions weren’t necessary, though. The raised temperature was to be expected if that’s how she normally reacts to arousal, but of course you’d know more about that.”

“Nero!” He could still feel the Warrior’s pulse; it seemed to reverberate through his body as well as hers. He didn’t like the way it was pounding, heavy, dangerously fast. She couldn’t go on like this.

Nero was reaching into his underwear now, slow and unhurried, drawing in a long, slow breath at his own touch.

“You need to work on your begging, Garlond.”

“I am _not-”_

“But you already know how to help her. At least, a clever man would have worked it out by now.” His hand was still moving, still gripping and tugging, but he didn’t bother removing his trousers. His eyes crinkled with enjoyment at the picture of anguish Cid was sure he was presenting at this point.

Well.

He’d suspected, certainly. But Cid had also been hoping, praying for another way that didn’t involve taking advantage of his love. But gods help him, he couldn’t see any other way out.

He tried to ignore Nero at the edge of his vision, settling back against a desk with his hand down his pants, and instead leaned in towards her ear again. It was the closest he’d get to private speech with her.

“I’m sorry I let you get in this situation. And I’m sorry for making you wait, too.”

Was that a flash of clarity in her face? Gods, he hoped so. She’d finally managed to sit upright but she was still a mess, rumpled and ragged, clearly struggling to hold herself steady even with the wall for support, twisting her trembling hands around each other.

He began gently stroking her hair, sweeping the larger tangles out of her face – he’d meant it to be soothing, but she simply scowled at him, wrapped her hand around his and clenched it into a fist against her scalp. She’d never been this forceful with him, but the need in her eyes was _very_ familiar as he tugged on her hair.

“Harder,” she insisted, plucking at the fastenings on his shirt and _fuck_ , he’d forgotten the way her voice could drop like that when she wanted something from him. He couldn’t help moaning at the way her neck arched, her body tensing, her mouth falling open in bliss as he yanked again.

Nero, at least, seemed to have the sense to be quiet, and it became easier to pretend he wasn’t there, to ignore the soft sounds of cloth against skin that wasn’t his own shirt being pulled off him, still half-buttoned. He gently disengaged the Warrior’s hands to finish the buttons, whereupon she immediately moved to unfastening his trousers instead.

At that, he gripped her wrists and pulled them away from him entirely. The look on her face when she realised what he’d done was enough to make him very glad she had no weapon. But he didn’t want to lose all of his control, not yet, not when he still had to find a way to get them out alive.

“ _Cid,_ dammit-”

“Ssh, I know. I’m going to take care of you.” He moved to kiss her neck, letting her hands loose: she immediately gripped his hair and tugged him closer. He couldn’t help grinning against her skin before running his teeth down from under her ear towards her shoulder. She shuddered and arched again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to hold him close, her legs shifting beneath them until she – _gods –_ until she could rub the top of her thigh against his crotch.

They both stilled a moment, his shock at the contact and her delight at the response, mirroring each other, holding each other and panting for breath.

Cid decided to retaliate by sucking marks into her skin, biting here and there wherever he could find fresh exposed skin around her collar. The world narrowed. All that mattered was the way she was coming alive for him.

She gave his hair a particularly hard yank, and he couldn’t help giving a loud groan, trembling and holding onto her for support. He wasn’t sure why it felt like defeat at first – and then he remembered their audience. But there wasn’t time for worrying about Nero seeing him like this; she was running her hand down his back with just enough sensation of nails for him to notice, and _oh,_ he’d forgotten how that felt, too. She did it again with both hands, with a stronger grip, and he practically _whimpered_.

...Why was she still dressed? Not that he was too bothered with properly removing her shirt, on reflection: simply reaching up and in was enough for what he needed. He found her nipple and gave it a hard pinch before running his hand around to her back to give her his own scratches. From the way she was wailing, it was definitely appreciated.

“ _Haaah_...gods, _gods,_ Cid, you...” Her moans were more than enough to drown out the small, huffing, intent ones from Nero’s direction, so he encouraged more of them. The harder he gripped, mouthing at her nipples through her shirt, the more he marked and claimed her, practically tearing her clothing in some places, the noisier she became –

Until she suddenly _growled_ , twisted his shoulders and did something with her leg, and he found himself against the wall with her on top of him, straddling him. It was all he could do to remember to breathe, seeing her looking down at him, triumphant and needy all at once, grinding her hips down onto him.

Cid shivered, and found his hands resting on her hips, lost to simply watching for a time. It still took him over now and again, the sheer awe he had for her. She’d done things he couldn’t understand, could never come close to; she’d fought primals and voidsent and mortals alike and told the tale afterwards. She could break him if she wanted, but instead she’d kept her softest gazes and sweetest words just for him.

He could sense Nero moving, doing something in the background – changing his position maybe, but Cid couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now, he suspected, anyone who tried to keep the Warrior from what she wanted would be thrown out the nearest window. She seemed to be gaining more awareness – and her strength was returning too, _fuck_ – but she was still greedy, fumbling at his trousers and grinding against him through several layers of clothing, and Cid had given up pretending it wasn’t driving him mad as well.

At length, she lowered herself onto his cock with the barest preamble, pulling fabric aside just enough to allow access, her legs shaking, resting her forehead against his, her breath puffing against his mouth, moving as slowly as she could bear in her frenzied state.

"Ah, seven _hell_ s..!" His face, no, his whole _body_ was flushing hot. She was so ready for him that he entered her easily, but she still tried to draw out every inch. It was gorgeous torture.

When she came to a stop he could feel her hips twitching in minute movements as she tried to hold herself still a moment, fully seated on his cock.

_"That's my favourite part,"_ she'd told him once. _"When all the tension pays off: that connection for the first time all over again, before we start to move and get carried away once more."_ He'd teased her about the way she became so lyrical when she talked about sex, and she'd taken her revenge on him later that night.

For Cid's part, it was all he could do to accept her, dazed as he was. His hands were moving of their own accord, running along the sides of her waist and hips in long, slow strokes, speaking their praise to her sweat-sticky skin. He could tell that the tip of his cock was just about reaching where she needed it, by the way she shook and tried to grind down onto him even further, the small huffs of breath that grew more forceful. He couldn't bring himself to care about his own pleasure at these times; watching her fall apart above him was more than he could have dreamed of. She was willow-curving over him, gripping both sides of his head and tangling her fingers in his hair, her mouth hanging open and eyes drifting shut, and with his ears half-covered he devoured her with his eyes instead.

He trailed his hand along her thigh, down and in to rub against her clitoris with his thumb. She held her breath; her thrusts became erratic, her expression twisted, and _gods_ , he loved to see her getting close to her release like this-

Without warning, he was being pinned back against the wall by a hand gripping his throat – long, thin fingers and a glint of a vial out of the corner of his eye; he became aware of Nero’s voice as he gripped just tight enough to stop Cid’s breath.

He tried to fight back, tried to punch with the heel of his hand to the centre of Nero’s brow. Where his glasses rested would also cause a lot of damage if forced into his eyes. Nero simply ducked out of the way without effort, apparently expecting that exact trick.

“Shouldn’t have stopped paying attention, old friend. I never thought that _this_ would be the way I wiped that arrogant look off your face.” Now he was grabbing Cid’s jaw, squeezing to force his mouth open while angling his cock towards Cid’s face. He quickly clamped his teeth shut.

Nero just tipped his head back and let loose a laugh that rattled the walls, but instead of trying again he drew his hand away and held the vial in front of Cid’s eyes, eyebrows raised with sardonic questioning. His meaning was plain.

_Summarily erased._

Seven hells, that was no choice at all. Cid licked his lips, gaze flicking between Nero’s erect cock, positioned near his cheek, and his Warrior’s eyes, glazed with fear and pain and tortured arousal. And fury, too, when she spared a glance for Nero.

No doubt that she understood their predicament, and who was responsible for it. Twelve help him, if this was the only way to keep his mind even partly clear, he would have to take all of Nero’s whims.

He reached for his Warrior’s hand, trailing behind her waist and semi-concealed from Nero’s eyes, and gave it a squeeze. The answering grip was reassuringly strong, but trembling still. She needed him. His first goal had to be flushing that drug out of her system; everything else was secondary.

Cid had never been with a man before. As he turned his head and opened his mouth, grudgingly permitting Nero to press the head of his cock inside, he only had his own preferences to go by. Perhaps fortunately, the Warrior resumed her grinding and leaned in close to breathe small gasps into his ear. It served well enough as a distraction – the air filled with gasps and sighs and effortful movements – it served, right until Nero grabbed his head with both hands, knocking the Warrior out of place and forcing him further onto his cock with a guttural moan.

There was no chance to think how he could help her now; all his attention was forced onto keeping his breathing even, running his tongue along the sensitive underside of Nero’s cock, trying not to gag as the head bumped against the back of his throat. And all the time Nero’s pale eyes were fixed on him, greedy for the sight of Cid choking on him, spit beginning to dribble down his chin.

Cid’s eyes were watering, his hands clenching into fists, and his vision swimming, but through the fog of fear he could hear Nero’s breathing take a ragged edge, his groans becoming more urgent, his hands spasming in Cid’s hair until he abruptly withdrew once more and spent himself over Cid’s face. Cid managed to close his eyes and turn away in time, pretending he couldn’t feel the warm, sticky strings of jizz sliding down his cheek and towards his collarbone, pretending he couldn’t hear Nero’s soft, satisfied laughter. Pretending he wasn’t still painfully erect, even more breathless and urgent than before.

“Ah... I should have done that years ago.” Somehow, the way Nero absently patted Cid’s cheek was _more_ offensive.

Cid didn’t want to meet the Warrior’s eyes, but it was hard not to when she grabbed some sheets from the bed to wipe off his face. She’d ducked her head lower to be on a level with him, gave him one of her looks that he found so hard to interpret. Understanding, maybe. Compassion, if he was lucky. Of course, if their – hah – _positions_ were reversed he would have thought no less of her for needing to do whatever was necessary. His face burned, regardless.

She shook her head at him, managing a small, gentle smile for him, until he thrust upwards once more and made her catch her breath – ah, that was better. As much as he tried to tell himself this was for her benefit, he was getting desperate for his own release. Every time she lowered herself deep onto him, it felt like she was wiping away every stray thought, forgiveness with every thrust.

Nero called him naive on a regular basis. He’d laugh even harder if he knew the direction of Cid’s thoughts now.

For a time, the room was filled with heavy breaths, gasping, the bed frame jerking against the wall, but the Warrior was beginning to tire, he could tell – for all he knew, she was already in danger and weakened from that wretched poison.

He managed to lift her up off him, holding her hips steady with his hands – but she could still reach the tip of him and was shamelessly rubbing herself against him. The teasing was unbearable. Gods, he was not going to be able to keep this up himself, he was exhausted with terror and desperation and the temptation to simply push back into her was immense, but he moved himself around and laid her once more along the bed beneath him, hitching her legs up and apart before sinking into her with a hungry noise.

She wailed at that, and gripped his shoulders enough to draw blood. By that alone he could have known he was where she needed him to be, but she was arching her back again, babbling a jumbled mix of praise and pleading that he could barely make out, her thighs jerking against his torso as her orgasm took her. He managed to wait while she slumped against the mattress, trying to count his breaths, trying to give her a chance to rest before he could chase his own release.

Enough time passed, filled with slow, sticky breaths, that for a moment he was afraid she had fallen unconscious, but she eventually opened bleary eyes and dragged shaking fingers down his chest, over his belly and the place where they were still joined, where he was trembling and clamouring to start moving again. He’d expected her to draw her hand away, but she held it against his hip instead and gave a weak tugging movement towards her, her eyes fixed unblinking on his.

She was so pliant beneath him, as he lay over her and buried his face into her neck. She wrapped heavy arms around him, her fingers running heavy tracks over his skin, too weak for anything more demanding, but she gripped him close to her, and it was enough.

He ended up whimpering into her neck when he came, too far gone to care about sounding ridiculous. He managed to drag his hand up to her neck: her pulse was much better now, thank the Twelve. As it was, he couldn’t find it in himself to draw out of her, just yet. Except-

“Very touching, and all that. I had expected the compound to have a stronger effect, though there’s no accounting for heroes. Very inconvenient, their constitutions-”

“Seven hells, can you just...not? You put us in danger for _no reason_ -”

“We were already in danger, Garlond. We always are.” And Nero fucking _grinned_ at him, and if Cid wasn’t ready to pass out from whatever sick cocktail of things he was feeling right now, he would have flayed the man for it.

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY. So that happened. The idea took me and I couldn't leave it alone.
> 
> I'm actually quite proud of the atmosphere of this? I'd love to hear what you think. Creeped out? Turned on? An unholy mix of the two (hi there)? Let me know!


End file.
